Like Father, Like Son
by YaytahTheNinja
Summary: Dominic Cobb is still the most skilled extractor in existence. But reality never stops, and the time has come for Dom to pass on his knowledge. But will he be able to hide the hidden truth of Mal's death away from his son? James Cobb -  The next extractor
1. Chapter 1

**Like Father, Like Son**

**Chapter 1**

**I own neither Inception nor its characters. But that doesn't mean that I can't mess with your head, just like they messed with mine.**

James Cobb looked at the faded photos of his parents. His mother's deep eyes stared out longingly at him, while his father's loving gaze seemed somewhat distracted. His mother, Mal, died when he and his older sister, Philipa, were children. But throughout his early childhood, his father, Dom, always seemed to be away working. At least, that's what he was told, until two years ago, when his father told him the truth; the truth about being an extractor.

_Two years before_

Dom, still the best known extractor in existence, picked up the receiver. He drew a long, deep breath before punching in the numbers to his son's mobile. He had been dying to tell James since he was around eight years old, but he knew that such knowledge would drastically change his life.

Dom recently reached the age of sixty, and his father-in-law was ready to move into a home, whether he liked it or not. Dom's old work team couldn't fight aging either.

Arthur and Ariadne were happily married and currently living just out of the city. Arthur and Dom were still career partners, but their worked had slowed down.

Ariadne was still amazing Dom with her love and creativity for architecture. The ability to design buildings in a dream before they were constructed in reality gave her a major advantage. But it was a secret; only the team and a few close work colleagues knew.

Eames was most likely floating around a casino in some far-off city, humorously watching the young men lose their chips to the cards.

But Yusuf, unfortunately, had an accident with one of his own sedatives. His life support was turned off four years ago, as he never awoke from his coma.

Dom knew that it would take time to teach James the skills of being an extractor. And he also planned to teach the boy about whole art of extraction. He had contacted Ariadne, Arthur and Eames. They had all agreed to help teach James about the various skills involved with extraction.

Two reunions were organised; one in reality, in Dom's warehouse. The other, in Dom's Sub-conscious, in the café that he had taught Ariadne about the role of an architect.

But Dom was concerned. He knew very well that James was a very bright and curious child, and he knew that teaching his son the art of extraction would raise a question; the question that he had been spending his whole life trying to hide from. What really happened to Mal?

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	2. Chapter 2

**Like Father, Like Son**

**Chapter 2 **

**I own neither Inception nor its characters. But that doesn't mean that I can't mess with your head, just like they messed with mine.**

(Still two years ago)

The high shrill sound of the phone broke the silence of James's apartment. He sat up from the dully lit kitchen table, the newspaper's pages awkwardly left in mid fold. The floor boards creaked slightly as he strode across the room, and he cringed as the loud sound rang across the space again. The ringing stopped, and he placed the cold receiver against his ear.

"Cobb speaking" he said, his usual phone greeting. James never received calls this late, and he was feeling a tad tense.

"It's been a while, eh son?" said a familiar voice.

"Oh. Hey Dad" The tension in the room cleared instantly, and James took the phone back into the lounge.

"How have you been?" Dom asked half-heartedly. James knew that his father had a habit of only calling when he had something important to say.

"Fine, fine" James lied. He has recently lost his job to a misunderstanding of being in the wrong place at the wrong time. He was a draftsman for a company that restored old buildings into popular business locations. A late night in the office left James tired, and after clumsily scanning his ID card, the wrong elevator buttons were pressed. This took him to the floor above his destination, and with a face full of his boss - who had been married for twelve years - about to remove the blouse of the attractive blonde receptionist. James left the building without his ID card, or his job.

"Yourself?" he asked, after a pause.

"Not bad. Just lacking motivation to do anything constructive with my time" his father replied.

They made awkward small talk for a while, as they both knew that the reason of the call was not to do with rates or politics.

Finally, Dom burst the bubble of questions that James had been too uneasy to ask.

"I have some close friends that I want you to meet." He said. "They will be in town Monday week."

"Oh," was all that James managed to say. His father hadn't used the word _friends_ in context for what seemed like a lifetime. "Will Phil be coming to this….this little get together?" He referred to his older sister.

The phone went silent, except for Dom's uneasy inhale.

"This is something that doesn't involve her" he said, almost harshly. He quickly recovered from his slip, "It's more of a father son thing."

A fog of uneasiness settled on James's chest, but they continued to speak.

"Oh, well ok, that's fair enough. Just tell me when and where. I'll make sure that I'll be there."

"That's my boy" Dom said, and explained the location of the team's warehouse.

James scribbled down the address and time, then farewelled his almost estranged father and settled the receiver into its holder. He stifled a yawn and looked over at the unfinished crossword on the kitchen table.

Shaking his head in defeat, he stood and headed in the direction of his bed.

James held onto the handrail in the crowded tram, as he tried to avoid any physical contact with the strangers around him. When it came to people, James was quite claustrophobic. But public transport was cheaper than owning a car. And he knew that he would eventually outgrow the dislike.

His stop was next, so he reached towards the button on the rail that would alert the tram driver of his intentions. His finger reached the button at the same time as a healthy, manicured nail. His eyes followed the nail up along an elegant hand and arm of ivory skin, and finally he met the bright grey eyes of an attractive young brunette. Her hair hung in a loose ponytail over one shoulder, and faint freckles showed across her nose. Her gently angled cheekbones glowed a faint pink as she smiled shyly, whispering a quiet apology.

James smiled politely and he returned the apology, as the tram came to an abrupt halt. But James realised too late that he had lost his grip on the rail. He stumbled forward and rammed into the brunette, but she just managed to stay upright. They both tried to regain their balance in an awkward fit of smothered laughs, as James apologized about thirty times. They earned a tram full of dirty looks, as they were also blocking one of the doors. James and the woman hurried down the steps and on to the footpath, surrounded by a swarm of people.

"I'm so sorry about that" James said, yet again, still laughing embarrassingly.

"Oh really, don't worry about it" Said the young woman.

The doors of the tram closed behind them, and they both turned their separate ways. But only after a few paces, James heard the woman gasp and swear. He turned to see her looking through her handbag.

"Shit!" She turned back towards the tram, but it had already started moving. Her cursing became even louder.

James acted without thinking. He pushed his way through the crowd, muttering even more apologies. He made it to the tram-stop within seconds, but the tram had a head start. He bolted after the old fashioned carriage, calling out to the passengers at the back. Even through the open windows, they either didn't hear him, or decided to ignore him.

He was lucky that the tram had to turn at an intersection, as he cut the corner and was almost in reach of the guard rail at the back. By now he had drawn a lot of attention, but the tram was picking up speed, and his legs were on fire.

A small boy saw James running after the tram, waving and shouting. He looked up at his mother, who was on the phone. He then looked at the small red button; the white letters that spelled "STOP" were faded from use. He looked out again at the man running after the tram. He made up his mind and subtly pulled away from his mother's grip. Then, because of his lack of height, he wrapped his arms and legs around the pole and pulled himself up. But he was too scared to let go with one hand to press the button, so he used his nose. He quickly slid back down the pole and went back to his mother, while the tram grinded to a halt at the next stop.

James almost cheered with relief when the tram slowed and stopped. He ducked around the waiting crowd and squeezed through the doors. There, on the floor, was a purse. He grabbed it and left the tram as quickly as he could manage. He tried to catch his breath and avoid the angry glares.

The woman looked anxiously down the street. The complete stranger that had almost knocked her over mere minutes ago had just gone after the tram that her purse was on. She had no idea what to do with herself, as she didn't know if the man had been successful of not. And she hoped more than anything that he hadn't been hurt. She saw a free park bench, and went to sit down. Her pale pink blouse caught in the breeze slightly. This was worn with a grey blazer, dark grey skinny jeans, and black, heel-less boots; her usual work attire. She waited in anticipation for the complete stranger.

Only a few minutes passed before blonde man sat on the other side of the park bench. She looked up and met his bright blue eyes. He smiled and handed her a black purse. She couldn't believe that this man went to all of this trouble for her. If he had said about thirty apologies to her, she said thankyou about fifty times. Eventually James calmed the woman down.

"But how can I thank you?" she asked, yet again.

"Well, you could let me buy you a coffee" James said, with a smile. He had removed his pale grey suit jacket and thrown it over his shoulder.

"I think that that is a lovely idea" she said, "but I'm due at a meeting in fifteen minutes."

"Well, it looks like we won't be eating in." He replied, with hidden disappointment.

They walked over to a small café, that had just opened and wasn't busy. James asked her preference and then ordered.

"May I have the name of my saviour?" the woman asked.

"James" he said, laughing, and held out a hand, "James Cobb."

"Rendelle Foster" she said, and they shook.

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